


Shot in the Dark

by leavesofautumn



Category: Open Heart (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alcohol, Bisexual Male Character, Dirty Dancing, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Kissing, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Jealousy, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Second Chances, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:49:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22885783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leavesofautumn/pseuds/leavesofautumn
Summary: After having her heart broken, Dr. Valentine goes out dancing to burn off steam...and runs into an old flame that never quite burned out.
Relationships: Bryce Lahela/Main Character (Open Heart)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

Casey winced as she tugged the last of the bright blue foam rollers from her hair, teasing out her freshly curled locks with her fingertips. She smacked her lips together as she did so, admiring the striking red gloss she'd picked out for the evening. It was the color of warm blood, its ruby-red shade complimenting her sequined top perfectly.

She attempted to smile in the mirror, proud to have executed such a bold, daring look at her age, but it was forced at best and she quickly gave up, settling for an irritable scowl instead as she rimmed her eyes with a smokey black shadow in a sad attempt to try and conceal some of the puffiness beneath.

Settling back, she stared somberly at her dolled up reflection. She looked _ hot,_ if not a bit trashy, but then again - that was the point. To exude confidence, control, and pride; all of the things she currently felt were so far out of her reach that she could scream.

She pulled on her heels at the front door and strutted out onto the street, flagging down the rideshare that would be taking her downtown.

Because she _ needed _to get out of the house. She needed to get drunk, to dance, to lose herself - if only for a single night before going back to reality tomorrow. To the real world, which was nothing but cruel, bitter and completely unfair.

She watched the colorful city lights flicker past the window of the SUV, feeling foolish for ever thinking that she and Ethan were meant to be. That he had been telling the truth when he'd told her that he and Harper were a thing of the past.

God, the image of them together in his office...every time she closed her eyes she saw the entire scene unfold all over again in a horrifying display of slow motion. The surgeon's eyes, wide with shock, hands fumbling as she shoved Ethan away and adjusted her skirts to cover herself. Him, standing between her legs, a pile of papers swept to the floor by their side. Herself, gaping like a fish, frozen in place and unable to process a single coherent thought after stumbling upon such a lewd, explicit sight.

Ethan had chased Casey down the hall after she'd fled in mortification, calling out her name as she'd tried her best to hold it together, to not cry and fall to pieces until after she'd made it safely outside. To try and salvage at least _some_ semblance of her completley shredded dignity.

And then he'd gone and grabbed a hold of her shoulder as she'd crossed over the threshold...and it was as if she hadn't been in control of her own actions, as if she'd been possessed - because she hadn't even hesitated. She'd turned heel and slapped him straight across his sorry face in front of the entirety of Edenbrook's lobby, patients and coworkers alike. And damn - she couldn't lie - that had felt _ good._ So damn good. It had put into action everything she hadn't been able to form into words, and had delivered the very clear message that they were _ done. _

But that momentary victory still hadn't stopped the onslaught of hurt that had followed.

As the dust had finally settled, her adrenaline quickly dying, the fact that she'd been cheated on had sunk in heavier than that of a weighted anchor's. The heartache that had flooded her then had been nothing short of crippling, and the cool September air had only added insult to injury, freezing the tears pouring down her cheeks in endless, childlike streams, making her eyes burn and sting as she squeezed them shut and willed it all away, praying for a do-over. To unsee everything that she had just witnessed, to go back to the way things were when she'd been blissfully obtuse to the truth of it all.

Casey had been a wreck all morning, trapped within a bubble of her own disappointment and grief. But by late afternoon she'd firmly decided the pity party she'd been throwing for herself wasn't going to solve her problems, nor would it make her feel any better.

But maybe dancing would. Dancing with someone whom she had no connection to. Someone she could touch and be touched by that couldn't hurt her, because at the end of the night they'd simply part ways.

In that blissful way that nameless strangers could.

She entered the once familiar club and was immediately overwhelmed by all of its raging sights and sounds. It had been so long now since she'd gone out for a night on the town. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the red and purple ambient lighting that spun a hazy, dream-like effect over the large, open room. Strobes flashed somewhere in the distance, and the second she'd walked through the door the low, thumping base of the music had begun to stimulate the underlying beat of her heart, slowly eliciting a twinge of nearly forgotten excitement from somewhere deep inside of her, invoking it anew.

The tempo of the music raced, and her blood followed it almost instinctively. She grinned then, confidently strutting across the open dance floor towards the nearest bar, pretending she was young and free instead of sad and desperate (and _ dangerously _ close to thirty).

Casey had only been leaning against the bar maybe two minutes when a long shadow fell over her. She glanced up into the bright blue eyes of a young, lean man. He was all legs, with an easy, trustworthy smile and a pleasant, crisp scent, and she couldn't help but notice that this was probably what Ethan would've looked like at her age - which was as bittersweet as it was darkly satisfying.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked smoothly, leaning his elbow against the dark marble.

Casey gave him the best fake smile she could muster. “No. But you _ can _ buy me a shot.”

~)x(~

Bryce was more than a little tipsy, grinning like the cat who'd caught the canary as the man he was dancing with ran his broad hands up the length of his back, swaying suggestively to the beat of the song that was blaring raucously through the overhead speakers. He felt the brush of the stranger's inner thigh sliding up and down along the edge of his hip, and the dangerous thrill that chased that sensation made him shiver all over.

They were so close, close enough that all Bryce could smell was bitter cologne and the ripe tang of cheap, rail tequila.

The man touched a tentative hand to his jaw and Bryce tilted his face up, all too ready for a taste of what came next.

But at that same moment he heard the sound of boisterous, almost inappropriately happy laughter erupting from somewhere behind him, effectively popping the sensual bubble that he'd been encasing himself within for the last twenty minutes. He could've sworn he'd heard - but no, it couldn't have been _ her_. There was no rhyme nor reason for Dr. Casey Anne Valentine to be here tonight. 

Not now that she was dating _ Ramsey _ of all people. Hell, the two of them were probably at home, playing Scrabble or discussing advanced genome theory (no doubt over a pretentious, expensive bottle of red that Dr. Douche undoubtedly could break down into its seperate, various flavors and distinct points of origin).

He pushed the thought of Casey from his mind, turning back to face his partner. Anthony, right? That was his name? He placed his hands on the man's waist, trying to hone in and focus on the song that floated heavily through the air, on the bass and drums, whose vibrations he could feel all the way down to his bones. 

But it was no use. All he could picture now was Casey, and the way _ they _ used to come here. The way he used to hold and squeeze _her _ waist like this, touch and kiss _ her _under these very same strobes and laser lights.

They used to stay out all hours of the night, right up until the first signs of morning, before collapsing of exhaustion in his bed just before the winking brink of dawn, lazily touching and caressing one another, laying twisted and naked in his sheets, sleeping away their days off entangled beneath the warm summer sunbeams streaming in through his window.

_ Fuck _ \- there wasn't a single day that passed in which he didn't yearn for Casey and the way they'd once been. The two of them had been professional and colloquial at the hospital...and freely amorous every and anywhere else.

Inseparable, infallible, indestructible.

Or so he'd thought.

She'd burst into his life like a comet; so bright, so full of life. Hot to the touch and dazzling to the eyes.

And then, just like that, she was gone - stolen away in the blink of an eye.

Their time together had been a blazing fire on a cold winter night. It had been everything he'd never known he'd needed in his life. She had completed him, filling in the missing pieces of himself that he hadn't even known he'd been searching for.

But they'd never actually discussed _ what _they were. They'd never actually put feelings into words. And as such, in her mind they'd probably only ever been good friends who messed around from time to time. Two people who enjoyed one another's company, a way to relieve the never-ending stress that medicine threw their way.

So when Ramsey had come up to her after her trial, all flowy words and confessions and _ seriousness..._go figure, she'd fallen right into his awaiting, open arms.

Bryce still kicked himself in the ass on the daily for not telling her how he'd really felt in the private moment that had followed between them. The one in which she'd asked him if he was okay with the idea of her seeing someone else. It was his biggest regret, and every time he saw her walking down the hallowed halls of Edenbrook he was tempted to run up to her, to drag her into the nearest supply closet and tell her the _ truth_.

That he loved her - that he had _ always _loved her, body and mind, wholeheartedly and with every fiber of his being. That he would care for her, cherishing her every second of every day for the rest of their lives...if only she would give him a fighting chance for her heart.

But would he ever _ actually _ do that? No. Because anyone with eyes could see that she was happy with Ramsey. That he made her smile and stirred up the fluttery, girly moths in the pit of her stomach (or whatever the hell the saying was).

And Bryce would never do anything to disrupt her happiness. She'd been through so much this past year; she'd earned it, dammit.

“You seem distracted,” his partner said with a laugh, touching the side of his face again.

Bryce glanced down. May or May Not Be Anthony had nice hands with finely tapered, long fingers that could make tonight a _ very _ memorable evening. And God that was tempting, especially after the taxing day he'd had working under Dr. Wen. But Bryce knew his interest in this man had completely evaporated the moment he'd started thinking of Casey.

He politely removed the touch that had begun to roam down his body and excused himself to go get a drink. His present company didn't seem at all offended by the gesture. He simply shrugged him off and turned towards the person who had been hovering on their left, quickly catching their attention with a flirty smirk and a off-beat, suggestive compliment.

Bryce sighed in frustration. He was getting a headache, probably from all the damn knock-off tequila, and definitely wasn't in the mood to dance anymore. He started making his way towards the doors, planning to leave for the night, when he suddenly heard it again.

Casey's laugh.

He'd know it _ anywhere. _ That _ was _her.

He spun around, lips parting in shock and surprise at the sight of a very drunk Dr. Valentine dancing under the fractured, flinting light of a white strobe, some unknown man's hands greedily roaming her exposed, lean abs with widespread, kneading fingers. His stomach twisted into a rough knot, rooting him in place - because he noticed immediately that she was wearing_ that _top. The sequined one she'd been wearing the night of her intern year housewarming party. The one that had glittered in the lamp light as he'd slowly removed it, inch by delectable inch, the very first time they'd-

Okay, but what the _ actual _ fuck was she doing here? And who the hell _ was _ that, all up on her like some horny high school prom date? She didn't seem to mind. In fact, she seemed more alive in this moment than she had been in weeks. Like she was actually having _ fun _ for once, the way she used to before she'd started dating her stick-in-the-mud mentor.

Bryce was conflicted about whether or not to approach her. After all, she was a grown ass woman, and was smart enough to make her own decisions. But then again, she was also _ very _drunk. That much was obvious.

How did he know? Because once upon a time he had been _ very _familiar with drunk Casey. Her laughter, her sloppy kisses, her embrace.

Drunk Casey was one hell of a woman; wild and captivating, sensual and boundless.

But also reckless. Passionate, yes...but vulnerable. Which was apparent in the stumble of her step as the man dancing with her began to cop a much more daring feel and she attempted to step away, only to be grabbed roughly from behind and secured firmly in place.

_ “Hey!” _

He heard her protest, even over the deafening volume of the music and a hundred overlapping voices, and instinctively began to push his way through the dense crowd.

“I'm serious - you need to back off!” he heard her say.

“Come on baby, don't be like that…"

The man spoke with a hint of laughter in his voice. But Bryce wasn't smiling in the least as he approached them. He was much bigger than the man Casey had been dancing with, and easily shoved him aside with a single, forceful push to the shoulder.

“She _said_ back off," Bryce warned in a low voice, reaching to steady Casey as she regained her balance. He slipped his arm around her waist, holding her possessively, and the man's face twisted with annoyance.

“And just who the fuck are _ you_?” he demanded, sizing Bryce up.

Bryce narrowed his eyes. “I'm the guy that's gonna kick your ass if you don't scram. Now beat it.”

The man snorted, straightening the cuffs of his sleeves with a sharp tug to either wrist. "Pft. Whatever, man. She's not even worth the effort."

_She's worth ten times the likes of you, jackass. _

Bryce glared daggers into the man's back as he strode away before leading Casey towards one of the nearby leather booths against the wall. She hung her head in embarrassment as he eased her down and moved to squat in front of her.

“You alright?” he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. It was slightly tacky from the abundance of hairspray she'd applied to it, sticking to his fingers.

“I'm fine,” she muttered, twisting away from his touch. 

Bryce swallowed hard, pulling his hand back. Casey's eyes were watering, bright red even beneath the thick black eye makeup she was wearing.

Shit - he'd always hated to see her cry.

“You know...you can talk to me if you want,” he offered cautiously, scooting into the booth beside her.

She glanced his way warily. “Can I?"

He gave her what he hoped was a convincing smile. “Always.”

She sighed heavily, pushing her hair back with a groan as she leaned forward, propping herself up on her elbows. After a moment she began to speak, but it was too low for Bryce to hear over the music. He moved closer, his hip pressing the side of hers.

“Sorry. What was that?” he asked.

She shook her head with a humorless laugh, staring straight ahead with a forced, carefully poised expression. “I _said_...earlier today I walked in on Ethan and Harper in his office." She swallowed hard, as if her throat were full of glass. "...and let's just say it wasn't a business meeting.”

“Well, fuck.”

He wasn't sure what else to say, but Casey agreed with his vulgar expression nonetheless, nodding her head.

“He tried to follow me, tried to ‘explain things’,” she continued, annoyance thick in her voice as she gestured flippantly with her hands.

“Did you hear him out?”

"No." Casey looked momentarily abashed, then simply pissed once more. "Instead I slapped him."

Bryce couldn't help but laugh, genuinely wishing he could've been there to see that prick knocked down a peg.

“Damn. That sure is one way to get your point across. But hey, I'm proud of you for sticking up for yourself,” he said with a supportive smile, bumping her playfully with his shoulder.

Casey smiled weakly, her eyes meeting his for only a split, fractured second before quickly looking away once more.

"To be honest, I'm not even sure why I came out tonight. I thought it might be fun, to dance again. But apparently all I'm doing is making a fool of myself." She sighed wearily, reaching for a napkin. "I should just go home."

He watched her blot away her lipstick, the bold red color transferring effortlessly, leaving behind the soft pink hue of her natural lips in its place.

“What, so you can cry over a pint of ice cream all night? Nope. I don't think so. Not on my watch.”

Bryce stood up and offered her his hand. She stared at it blankly, so unsure, as if in deep contemplation of something.

"You came here to dance, didn't you?” He flashed her a dazzling smile. “So come on then - let's dance.”

There wasn't a single thing Bryce could do to stop the skip in his heart as her fingers touched his.

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please consider leaving a kudos/comment below! Parts 2 and 3 will be out soon! 💕


	2. Chapter 2

Casey felt Bryce's fingers close over hers as he pulled her to her feet, his grip more tender than she expected. She looked up at him and couldn't help but smile bashfully, seeing the obvious delight that flashed across his features as their hands touched. Bryce could be a complex man, difficult to read at times, but had always been forward and open with his joy.

She admired that about him, always had. The way little things excited and thrilled him to no end, and how something as simple as the promise of a dance could make him glow with radiance and light up a room.

A mischievous smirk played at the corner of his lips as he dropped her hand and slyly swiped two double shots off a passing server's tray. He passed one to her with a playful wink and she clinked her glass against the side of his, holding her breath as she tossed it back. It burned the whole way down, making her grimace.

“Oh my god - who the hell orders _ vodka _ as a shot?” she laughed.

Bryce took their empty glasses and set them down on the closest table, taking her hand once more. 

“Somebody with terrible taste and way too much money.”

Casey felt his gentle pull as he led her into the massive throng of people twisting and grinding on the dance floor. The lights above them pulsated, dimming and brightening with the beat of the track, and it was almost as if out of pure muscle memory that she reflexively raised her hand to his shoulder.

He paused half a measure, seemingly taken aback by her touch, then reached forward to place his hand on her bare waist - softly...as if asking for permission. Her heart began to race, pounding in response to the heat of his palm. She nodded wordlessly, letting him know it was okay.

Bolder now, he stepped forward, his free hand sliding purposefully down the length of her arm and over her wrist. He interlaced their fingers tightly as he pulled her flush against his chest, swaying their bodies as one to the rise and fall of the music with an expert, practiced finesse that he seemed all too eager to show off.

She sank into his arms with a smile that felt all too natural, losing herself in the music and the feel of Bryce's body on hers.

Because God, he felt _ amazing. _ She'd nearly forgotten just how much she loved touching him...and how much she loved to be touched by him in return. Her open palm slid down the front of his shirt, bunching the stiff black fabric as his own hand found the small of her back, not-so-subtly pressing their hips together.

“Somebody's having a good time,” she laughed coyly in his ear, feeling his blatant arousal against her thigh before turning under his arm.

Facing away from him, she couldn't see his smile, but heard his throaty laugh as his hands fell to her hips. She played his game all too willingly, rocking them side to side in his grip, and the humorous quip on the tip of his tongue instantly fell away, replaced by an all too familiar hiss through clenched teeth that made heat pool in the pit of her belly.

In the next moment, his breath was warm against her neck as he spoke, his words slightly blurred together.

“You're incredible - you know that, right?”

She didn't reply, simply closed her eyes and leaned back against his lean, chiseled physique, grinding up and down against him with a languid slowness that ignited each and every nerve in her body - and his too, it seemed. His hands began to roam more freely now, up and down the edges of her ribs, as if counting the individual spaces between them, down her thighs and up again - each time stopping right at the hem of her top, making her crave his touch all the more in the places he didn't dare caress without consent.

“I mean - just look at you...”

He spun her back around, one hand settling on her waist as his forehead dropped to hers.

“...you're _ radiant_.”

Casey felt her eyes water. She glanced up at Bryce, who was staring down at her as if she were made of starlight. His almond eyes were soft and genuine, and gazing up into them brought back so many memories, seemingly all at once - recollections of them sitting on the floor of his living room, playing cards at three o' clock in the morning; of their hikes and misadventures up in Middlesex on the weekends.

...not to mention all of their secret, impassioned dalliances, stolen in supply closets and exam rooms all throughout Edenbrook. 

The depths of his eyes contained a reminder of times filled with _laughter - _of pure, unfiltered mirth.

But those same eyes were also piercing; dark, angled and full of molten fire. Had Ethan ever looked at her with even a _fraction_ of this intensity? Her knees felt weak under the heat of his gaze, and inadvertently she stepped closer, pressing herself up against him, failing miserably to keep the sudden yearning in her aching heart at bay.

“I think I made a terrible mistake,” she said quietly, realization to an inevitable truth becoming crystal clear at long last.

She wasn't sure if he could hear her over the sound of the music, over the booming bass and pounding drums, past the liquor that surged so sweetly through their blood. But nonetheless she reached up and hesitantly pressed his stumbled cheek, cradling his jaw in her hand as she studied him further, drinking in her fill.

It had been so long now...and oh, how she'd missed this face.

This smile, these long lashes, those full lips of his.

And also his voice; spoken loudly, whispered softly. Singing off-key in the shower when he thought she was out of earshot. Rattling off surgical terminology as they studied, reminding her constantly of the beautiful, keen mind behind his otherwise unsuspecting exterior. 

Why had they fallen out of touch after she'd started dating Ethan? For Christ's sake, they were _ best _ friends! The two of them had been each other's rocks since the very beginning.

Yet she hadn't heard more than a handful of words from him ever since the night of the trial, and lately he'd been picking up night shifts, almost as if he were purposefully avoiding her.

She realized now just how much she'd mourned the loss of his companionship these past two months. How much she thought about him, all the time.

Especially in the little moments, like when she bought herself a coffee and had to bite her tongue to keep from placing his order alongside hers.

Or in the mornings, when she awoke and Ethan was already long gone, without so much as a single word.

Whereas Bryce, even though they had only ever been friends, had always gifted her with some sort of longing touch or whispered sweetness in her ear before he'd left her bed. A scribbled note on her nightstand, or one of his sweaters 'accidently' left behind for her to find, knowing how much she loved to wear them around the house.

It was in those small, uncharted gestures that he was, and always would be, unparalleled in his charms. A league all his own.

He was such a kind, caring, relaxed sort of man. Easy and simple to fall for, and painstakingly hard to let go of. To try and live without. One who got to know his patients as if they were friends, and who treated his friends as if they were family.

“Case-?”

“I did. I made a mistake,” she whispered again, this time to herself.

She felt her eyes water, squeezing them shut as she bit the bullet. She took an unplanned, impulsive shot in the dark, standing on her toes as she pressed her lips to his without any warning or precursor, unable to find the words needed to express what she was feeling.

Only knowing that if she didn't get it out _somehow_, she would burst.

He stiffened against her at first, then responded eagerly, almost desperately, his mouth dragging hers rhythmically as they continued to dance with a slow, sensual fluidity that made it feel as though the rest of the room had disappeared altogether - like they were the only two people left in the universe; simply two stars colliding in a distant vacuum of space, white hot as their energy eclipsed any and all sense of decorum, all hesitance and hurt.

A rush of tears threatened to stream down her cheeks as one of his hands wound tightly through the back of her hair, tilting her head back to deepen the kiss. His tongue smoothly traced her lips, prying them open, and she melted at the sudden wet intrusion with an ardent moan, publicly and obscenely, not giving a single damn as to who saw them or what they must be thinking.

Because this was _ Bryce_, and damn it all to hell - she _ loved _ this man. Even if he didn't feel the same way, even if they never became anything more than what they were...in this moment, right here, she loved him more than anything else in the whole wide world.

Because like it or not, he _ was _her world.

Her sun, her sky, her sea.

She just wished she'd realized it sooner, before she'd gone and fucked everything up, ending something that had been so perfectly imperfect in every way imaginable.

The song ended all too soon, fading into one that was slower, the low trance of rhythm and blues filling the room as the lights ebbed, transitioning into brilliant, overlying shades of muted violet and glittering silver.

Bryce broke the kiss off, his breathing ragged, taking her face in either of his large, strong hands, a smile in his voice, his eyes glistening.

“There she is,” he whispered airily, touching his forehead to hers once more, "There's my girl."

Her heart swelled with pride, with adoration. She kissed him again, this time with purpose, burying her face against the warm crook of his neck and slowly trailing upward, her hand on his chest sliding south, tracing the cool buttons of his shirt as she kissed and licked and nipped at his golden flesh.

She felt his sharp intake of air as she paused her explorations midway, felt the way the muscles of his abdomen contracted beneath her touch, as if electrified.

She glanced up at him, her hand hovering in place, teasing the fabric of his shirt in circles with her blunt nails, a silent question in her eyes as she tilted her head to the left. His gaze followed hers, and he quickly realized what she was asking for, recognition and excitement flashing in his features.

He didn't say a word at first. He simply stared down at her, one of his hands drifting through a lock of her hair, twirling it around with a single finger as though he were dazed, lost in some dream, almost as if he needed to assure himself that she were real.

Then his hand found hers, and suddenly he was leading her through the crowd, a man on a mission. 

She held her breath in anticipation, heart pounding violently against the inside of her ribs, a rekindled sense of happiness blooming bright in her chest like a raw spring flower.

~)x(~

In what had seemed like a lifetime ago now, Bryce and Casey had accidentally stumbled upon an unmarked storage unit deep within the club, one whose black door had blended in seamlessly with the walls. They'd been trying to step outside for air, and instead had found themselves trapped inside of an incredibly small room...with a lock.

Bryce would never forget that night.

The sudden, blinding blackness had been chilling, but the thrill in knowing there was a crowd of hundreds just an arm's length away, completely oblivious to their passionate embrace, had aroused him to no end, igniting a blaze within.

And Casey's hands _\- fuck_ \- they'd been nowhere and everywhere, all at once, sliding up his body...and then downward. Further and further. She'd dropped to her knees without being prompted to, and his hands had gripped the back of her hair as she'd teased him endlessly in a way that could only be described as blissful torment.

The sounds she'd pulled from him that evening...they'd been downright primal. Animalistic and completely uncensored. He'd found himself crooning for her, yearning for her in a way that was completely out of the ordinary for him, as if he'd been starved for her and her alone, all his life.

He'd bent her over afterwards, in a space so small it barely even counted as a closet, burying himself deep inside of her as she'd reached back and grabbed his outer thigh with a guttural, fervent moan.

Thankfully, the noise beyond the door had drowned out every pleasurable cry she'd made in the moments to follow.

In the dark. Just for him.

They slid hand-in-hand into the familiar, all-encasing darkness like a pair of lustful phantoms, and as the last trace of light flickered into nothingness Bryce took a hold of Casey's waist and pressed her back against the door, his fingers finding the deadbolt and twisting it deftly as his mouth met hers in a collision of heat and swallowed sound.

She tasted like vodka - pure and undistilled - and he shuddered involuntarily, feeling her hands immediately slip beneath the hem of his shirt. She was just as impatient as he was, the two of them seemingly in equally painful withdrawl from one another's body. She ran her fingers up and down his chest as they kissed, tongues clashing, and the soothing touch of her soft hands was such a welcome, incredible feeling after so long without it.

Almost like an elixir, bringing him back to life.

He bent down, needing air, needing _ her, _ haphazardly kissing her jaw, her neck, the tiny strap on her otherwise bare shoulder. Any skin he could reach, relishing in the taste of her, in the feel of her rushed, greedy caresses. The way she pinched his nipple and rubbed against him shamelessly, as if they were still dancing to some nameless tune in her head.

_ "Case…" _

He slid his hands down to the top of her jeans, long fingers teasing the rounded button. He could already picture himself peeling them off and tossing them aside, kissing up and down her smooth, lithe legs, spreading them wide apart, making her whimper and moan his name as he ran his tongue and teeth up along the inside of her thigh - just the same as she used to.

Maybe even louder this time, as a personal challenge.

He popped the button, thumb brushing lightly over the top of her newly intimate, bared skin as she shivered. She was panting hard, head tilted back against the door in complete, wanton abandon.

"Baby, _ please,_” he heard her say, her voice breathy with desire in a way that made him downright _ ache _ for her.

But also in a way that made him pause, because the way she said that single wisp of a word was _wrong_.

All wrong - slurred and heavy, as if she were half asleep.

He groaned, pulling back from her even as his body _ screamed _ in objection. He placed his palm flat against the door above her head, striking the wood a little harder than he meant to.

“Casey...you're drunk,” he said quietly after a long moment of awkward, tense silence. He took a deep breath to steady himself. Why did the room suddenly feel like it was spinning? “What's more - _ I’m _ drunk.”

The dark air was silent, still. He felt her hands slip away, his skin suddenly cold without their warmth.

“So?” she protested. He heard her shuffle her feet. “I mean, it wouldn't be the first time you and I-”

“Yeah, well this is different!" he all but snapped in frustration. He quickly cooled his jets, realizing he'd all but shouted at her. "You know it is.”

Neither of them were in their right minds, coherent enough to make this decision, this choice. I mean, sure - he had a condom on him. But _still. _She was hurting, and he was-

Hell, he was two seconds away from being a sloppy rebound fuck. Just how pathetic _was_ he?

She stood there quietly but didn't move, blocking the door. He wished he could see her face. Wished she would _say_ something. He reached for her cheek, feeling moisture coat his fingertips.

_ Fuck._

_"_Why am I never enough?" she asked quietly, a sob catching in her throat.

“Shit. No, come here. I didn't mean to raise my voice. Casey-”

At a loss for words, he pulled her into his arms, feeling her nuzzle close. She clung to him tightly, arms wrapping the back of his neck as she finally released everything she’d been holding in since the moment he'd first stumbled upon her. She cried without restraint into his creased, rumpled shirt, with no traces of shame or even a hint embarrassment, erupting into a violent display of emotion like magma bursting from a liquid core.

She didn't hold back, didn't try to reign it in or bottle it up. She was comfortable in her vulnerability around him, probably due to the fact that he'd seen it all before. Been with her throughout all of the bloody, traumatic cases, the lost patients...and even her parents' messy divorce.

So in comparison, _ this_? This was no different. No worse. Simply one more instance in which she just...needed to be held. Not spoken to, not kissed, only squeezed tightly and reassured that she wasn't alone.

That she had a friend.

He ran his hand over the back of her bare shoulders, shushing her, cooing gentle, nonsensical words until she finally settled down, pulling away with a sniffle. 

“I um, I really do need to go home now,” she mumbled. "I've been up since five."

Bryce reached past her, unlocking the door. “Right, like I'm really going to let you wander around the subway station like this. Or worse - put you in some stranger's car.” He sighed, placing his hand on the small of her back. "C'mon. I still live right around the corner. You can crash at my place.”

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	3. Chapter 3

Stepping back into the club was sensory overload to the _ fullest _ extent. Bryce squinted his eyes against the harsh, vibrant lights and swiftly pulled Casey towards the exit, breathing in the cool night air as they stepped out onto the city sidewalk.

“Are you sure you're okay with me staying the night?” Casey asked awkwardly. She wiped her eyes as she fell into step beside him, hooking her thumbs through the loops of her jeans.

He casually slung an arm around her shoulder.

“Isn't that what friends are for?”

Casey nodded, staring straight ahead as she swallowed hard. “Yeah, right...friends.”

What was that tone in her voice? Bryce didn't ask, but he also didn't remove his arm, and when they stopped at a crosswalk waiting for the light to change he smiled to himself, feeling her head drift down sleepily to rest against his side.

It had been months now since Casey had last spent the night at his place, but she seemed to remember where everything was just fine. He watched in adoration as she toed off her shoes to the left of the door and then wandered aimlessly down the hall towards his bedroom, drunkenly tracing the unpainted drywall with her fingertips as she hummed under her breath.

“You want to shower first?” he asked, amused as he followed her into the small room. 

His bedroom wasn't much. Plain, like the rest of his place. Much more bland without Casey's things laying around like they used to. His king-sized bed took up most of the space, and other than that there were simply two nightstands and a dresser. No wall art, no mirrors. No photos.

Hell, who was he supposed to have photos of? His family? That was a laugh. He used to have a few of him and Casey, in cute little colorful frames that she'd bought for him, but he’d stuffed those into a drawer a few weeks back, unable to stare down at her smiling face without feeling a painful, longing ache in his chest.

“I don't have anything to change into,” she pointed out.

Bryce opened his closet door and stepped inside, reaching for the top shelf.

"I um, kept meaning to give these back. I guess now's as good a time as any."

He handed her the pair of grey cotton leggings she'd left behind, once upon a time, then grabbed one of his t-shirts off a hanger and tossed it her way. She caught it with a slight quirk of a grin, rubbing the fabric with her thumb and forefinger appreciatively as she walked towards the door, lingering a moment to glance over her shoulder from the hall.

“Thanks, Bryce," she said softly.

“Don't mention it.”

He sat on the edge of the bed as he heard the shower turn on, his head pounding as if it might split in two as he ran his hand through his hair in frustration - because _ all _ he wanted to do in that moment was slip into the bathroom with her. The sound of running water instantly brought back memories of the first time they'd showered together. It had been in that luxurious bathroom she shared with her roommates, the one with the oversized, polished mirrors and the crystal light fixture that cast rainbows on the walls whenever the early morning sun struck it.

He could still picture it, clear as day - the way his hands had looked gripping her slick thighs, pressing her up against the cold tiles. The sight of hot water droplets racing down past her breasts towards their joined, heaving bodies.

...the way she'd made such sweet little joyful noises afterwards as he'd washed her hair, working his nails over her scalp with a sense of intimacy he'd never shared before or since with anyone else.

_Fuck it all._

Bryce stood with a groan, adjusting his pants, which still felt two sizes too tight, turning to grab one of his pillows. He carried it out into the living room, tossing it dejectedly against the couch before crossing to the kitchen and popping four ibuprofen tablets.

He grabbed a few extra pills, as well as a glass of water, leaving them on his nightstand for Casey.

She emerged from the bathroom fully dressed and toweling off her hair, looking refreshed but exhausted. And also...downright adorable, more than he liked to admit - what with his oversized Stanford shirt hanging down to the tops of her thighs. 

He couldn't tell her that though, it didn't seem appropriate, so instead he simply slipped past her into the bathroom and stepped under the brisk, cold water in an attempt to clear his head. But it was hard to. Hard to picture anything other than Casey's hands and the way that she'd touched him earlier tonight.

The way she had _begged._

It had felt so right, so _very _ right, and a part of him hoped she was just as hot, just as bothered as he was right now. That she had stolen into the confidentiality of this room and had stood beneath his showerhead rubbing herself in small circles as she thought of him, harder and harder until she broke from pent-up, sexual release, his name a silent plea on her pink, parted lips.

He didn't make eye contact with Casey as he stepped into his room in nothing but a towel, feeling downright dirty over his fantasy of her and the way he'd felt himself up picturing it, instead wordlessly grabbing a pair of gym shorts from his dresser and then disappearing into his closet to get changed. 

When he was decent he walked straight towards the door, not wishing to see what she looked like lying wet and spread out in his bed, calling out a simple goodnight as he flicked off the lights.

As he did, he heard her shift, sitting up.

“Wait - where are you going?” she asked, almost in a childlike voice, as if she were scared of the dark.

He turned to face her. “I was going to crash on the couch. Give you some privacy.”

She flicked his side of the covers up. “That's stupid. I'm not kicking you out of your own bed, Bryce. Come lay down.”

~)x(~

Bryce hesitated, then mumbled something that sounded like _ okay _ as he crossed the room. Casey felt the mattress dip beneath his added weight as she laid back against what she used to consider _ her _pillow.

There was a scent clinging to it that unsettled her completely, a bitter floral aroma that was foreign to her. She couldn't help but frown, wondering who the perfume belonged to. Someone she knew from the hospital? A complete stranger?

It was silly, she knew, and completely uncalled for, to be jealous of faceless people in made-up scenarios, but she also knew Bryce.

Insatiable. Flirtatious. Irresistible.

And as such, she had absolutely _ no _ doubt in her mind that there had been others after her, both men and women - and for some reason that realization made her sick to her stomach; picturing hands on his naked body that weren't hers - kisses and caresses pressed into the intimate folds of his skin as someone else pulled from him all those sweet, satisfied sounds she loved so much to draw from his lips like lewd little prayers.

It also hadn't escaped her notice that he'd gotten rid of their pictures, the ones capturing all of their shared adventures. That stung more than she liked to admit, wounding her already fragile pride.

“Goodnight, Bryce,” she said quietly, feeling small as she turned away from him, noting the way he kept to the very edge of the bed.

“Night, Case.”

She tried her best to fall asleep. After all, she was fucking spent- much too old to be out clubbing like she was still some well-to-do college kid. Her legs ached from her heels and her head felt like it was full of lead, even after taking the pills Bryce had left out for her.

Her thoughts wandered as she stared blankly at the wall, racing in a hundred different directions...yet always circling back to the man lying beside her, to the sound of his breathing, so soft and even, and the awareness that tingled all throughout her limbs with every small movement he made.

She wanted so much to apologize. To ask for another chance. To explain to him just how much she loved him and wanted to be with him. To admit aloud that Ethan had been a mistake.

But she was also terrified of rejection, of facing backlash.

To this day, she still wasn't sure what they'd been in the year that they'd spent in each other's arms; each other's beds. Because in all that time Bryce had never _once _ mentioned having feelings for her_._ They were the truest of friends, he'd never hesitated to remind her of that, but as to what he'd wanted from her in the long run?

She'd been clueless.

Though maybe she was also partially to blame. She'd never told anyone about him, not even her mother - although she suspected her roommates had always known on some level - and she'd certainly never allowed herself to admit, even privately, that she'd cared for him that way, always choosing to safeguard her heart instead.

Yet Ethan...dammit, Ethan had been so _straightforward_. He had told her he _ loved _ her...and that was all she'd ever wanted to hear from Bryce. That assurance, that solidarity.

It had been after the trial, at the bar across the street, that her mentor had pulled her aside and told her she _ consumed _his every waking thought, that she was the woman he saw building a future and home with. He'd professed his feelings with the magnitude of a romance novel hero, all pretty words and doting, steely promises.

All fucking lies.

Bryce wasn't a liar though, not in the least. A little rough around the edges, sure, but he had the purest and most honest heart of anyone she'd ever known - and if she'd been braver she would've told him that. She would've told him about all the daydreams and fantasies she'd ever had about the two of them - two, ten, even _ twenty _ years from now.

Together, and still so very much in love.

“Casey?”

Bryce's voice was so quiet. She barely heard it in her somnolent state.

“Hm?”

She heard him sigh wearily. “Nothing. Nevermind.”

Puzzled, she turned to lay on her back. Bryce was staring up at the ceiling as she looked him over, one hand resting on his chest, the other lying in the open, neutral space between them. His wet hair was slicked back from his face, looking more black than brown, and the shadows that danced across his features were more than a little flattering.

But also gave him a distant, haunted look.

She stared down at his hand, curling and uncurling her fingers as she chewed on her bottom lip, then slowly mustered up the courage to reach for it. She slid her hand down the length the comforter, moving to rest it lightly overtop his.

“You know you can talk to me. I'm always here to listen,” she professed, echoing his words from earlier.

He smiled a wry smile, turning his hand over, his long fingers sliding into the spaces between hers.

“I know I can. I just…”

He paused, shrugging one of his shoulders, then glanced her way, his eyes vulnerable as he gently squeezed her hand.

“I've just...I've missed you, that's all.” He held up their joined hands for a moment before letting them fall back down to the bed. “I've missed _ this._ Us.”

Casey's heart swelled, but she didn't allow herself to make assumptions. Instead she simply brushed the side of his wrist with her thumb, whispering words that lacerated her heart even as she spoke them.

“Was there ever an us?”

He rolled towards her, the corner of his mouth twitching up. But his smile quickly fell as he caught sight of their hands. He seemed to sober instantaneously, his expression pained.

“There was for me," he whispered. He shook his head in exasperation. “I know I didn't make a big deal of it, when you told me about Ethan...but that was _ literally _ one of the worst days of my life. And you know me Case, I've had a pretty shit life. It just - it felt like a part of me _ died, _watching you walk away."

“You never said-” she began.

“I know I didn't.” He looked up at her, face aghast with regret. “But I should've. I should've said a lot of things.”

Casey felt her eyes water as she turned to face him, closing the small distance between them.

"Me too," she admitted shyly.

She reached out and touched his face, tracing his jawline, the hard planes of his perfect cheekbone, the curve of his lips.

“Bryce, I..."

She watched him close his eyes, savoring the feather-light touch of her fingertips.

“Shh, I know,” he said softly, reaching up to cover her hand with his.

He turned her in his arms, pulling her back against his chest and cradling her close. The soft cotton of her leggings brushed his bare legs as she felt him press a kiss to the top of her hair.

“I do too,” he whispered, "God, I love you so much."

She squeezed his hand tightly, heart fluttering as his confession slowly sank in, feeling the need to anchor herself to this moment, to commit it to memory.

Then she closed her eyes, at ease and completely content, all signs of tension slowly slipping away from her until she was nothing more than a puddle in his embrace.

She breathed in the comforting scent of him all around her - like clean ocean air on a summer afternoon - and as she drifted off to sleep, she found herself smiling against the warmth of his arm.

Already dreaming of the next twenty years.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Playlist:  
Think About Us - Little Mix  
Drunk in Love - Beyoncé  
In Case You Didn't Know - Boyce Avenue


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